


For Want of Camaraderie

by IanPeriwinkle



Category: The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Hopes and Dreams, In which I endeavour to figure out what they wanted to be when they grow up, hoo boy these characters can fit SO MUCH TRAUMA in them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IanPeriwinkle/pseuds/IanPeriwinkle
Summary: “Hey, it’s just a question,” He protested, and shot a glare at Mark. “I just want to know – that’s all.”In which a simple question answers much more than Hartley was hoping for.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	For Want of Camaraderie

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this while high and also cooped up and lonely. spare a thought for those of us stuck in a travel bubble of up to 5km ;-;

Hartley Rathaway had never wanted to be a supervillain.

He had wanted to be many things – a conductor, a singer, a scientist, an ethnomusicologist, a mechanic. Hell, for a short while he had even entertained notions of taking over Rathaway Publishing House and following in his father’s footsteps.

But unfortunately for Hartley, fate had intervened, and he’d never had the chance to become _any_ of those things. He’d been forced out of home and onto the street before he’d even finished college. Within the first year he’d gone from a vagrant on the streets of Keystone city to one of the Flash’s greatest (and most annoying) enemies. It hadn’t been on the agenda – but hey, it worked for him.

He was musing on this while tinkering in a corner as the other Rogues plotted their next heist. Leonard, as per usual, had taken charge of the conversation and kept steering the easily distracted (and very drunk) Rogues back to the plan.

“—and then Roscoe will come in here,”

“I will do no such thing –” Roscoe peered over Len’s shoulder and sneered at the map. “It will leave me open to capture – what I really need to do is –”

“What you really need to do is follow the plan –”

The two men started bickering angrily, while the other Rogues backed off to watch the show. It was almost a sport at this point. James ran a betting circle over who would win each night. Len was definitely the favourite, although Hartley had faced Roscoe’s wrath more often, and secretly bet that he would win one of these days.

He lazed back and continued watching for a while, enjoying the spectacle, until suddenly a very pressing thought hit him, and he just had to know.

“Hey!” He yelled over their fight, drawing the attention of both men and the rest of the Rogues. He blushed, not expecting to be heard, but pressed on with his question. “Did you guys ever want to be something –” they looked at him in confusion “you know, something _more_ than this,” he gestured to the hovel of a hideout around them.

Len scowled at him and sat down. “We’re here to talk business, Rathaway – not to exchange childhood dreams.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, “Why do you care, anyway?”

Hartley had to hand it to Mark, it wasn’t as if he’d gone out of his way to get friendly with most of the Rogues. It was really just Len and James – and sometimes Mick, on his good days. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious.

“Hey, it’s just a question,” He protested, and shot a glare at Mark. “I just want to know – that’s all.”

“Fair,” Mark shrugged, and leaned back, eyeing Hartley curiously. After a full minute of everyone staring at each other in silence, of course he ended up being the one to speak up and break it. “I wanted to be like James Bond.”

James snickered, earning a glare from Mark – which of course made him laugh even more.

“Okay, Hot Shot,” Mark sneered, “What about you? Did you have some better dream when you were a kid?”

“Absolutely not,” James replied, and somehow Hartley just knew he was telling the truth. “I never had any dreams for what I was gonna be – I just knew I had to run away from the circus. Since then I just roll with the punches.”

That sobered Hartley a little bit, and earned sympathetic looks from some of the older Rogues. Digger, however, laughed. “I know how that is, mate,” He took a swig of the beer he was holding and gave James a knowing smile. “I spent most of my days just hoping I’d get away from me Pop alive,”

Len raised his bottle to that, as did – to Hartley’s surprise – Roscoe. Hartley didn’t know much about any of the other Rogues’ childhoods, but he’d never assumed Roscoe’s parents to be abusive. Then again, they all seemed to come from somewhat fucked up homes.

“I always wanted to be a firefighter,”

Everyone turned to look at Mick, who had been sitting quietly. He’d been off in his own world most of that night, usually an indicator that he was about to head into a serious downward spin.

“And you didn’t think that maybe starting fires was a good way to guarantee _not_ living out that --?” Mark got his reply in a smack upside the head from Len, who just nodded along to Mick.

“That’s a good dream, Mick,” He agreed quietly, and then turned to Hartley with a sober expression. “I wanted to be a cop – until I found out that’s what my dad was. And ever since then, I wanted to be a better person than him.”

A few minutes of silence passed, in which Digger got himself a new beer, Len drained his existing one, and James shifted over to sit next to Hartley. After this, Roscoe shrugged. He’d been nursing a whiskey from early on in the night.

“I wanted to be a Rabbi,” he admitted quietly. “I have the memory for it, I committed all the stories to heart, but –”

He didn’t need to finish. None of the Rogues needed to finish their stories. Because in the end, they all came down to the same thing.

They just had to roll with it.


End file.
